


Secret Santa Drabbles 2015

by LisaDuncansTwin



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: 2015 - Freeform, Drabble Collection, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaDuncansTwin/pseuds/LisaDuncansTwin
Summary: Thought it was the season to post my Secret Santa drabbles from last year. Enjoy! :)





	1. Ho, Ho, Ohh...

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I blame PattRose. :)

Blair heard the elevator as he straightened the wreath on the door. _Perfect,_ he thought, turning to greet his Sentinel. He didn’t try to explain how he knew it was Jim, he just did.

“Come on,” Jim groused, stepping from the elevator and sneezing as he glared at Blair and the wreath.

“Nice try,” Blair said, shaking his head. “It’s not even real.”

“Oh,” Jim said with a sheepish grin, following Blair into the loft.

“The tree, however, is,” Blair said, gesturing to the 6-foot tall Colorado Blue Spruce Christmas tree.

“Aw, no, Chief!”

Blair pushed Jim back against the closed door, leaning against Jim’s firm body.

“I’ll let you do me under the tree,” Blair whispered hotly against Jim’s neck before rubbing his stubble against Jim’s sensitive skin.

“O-okay,” Jim relented, one hand lifting Blair’s chin so he could kiss him, while the other cupped Blair’s ass. “But it goes the day after.”

“Uh-uh,” Blair said between kisses, one hand sliding under Jim’s tee-shirt, while he expertly popped the button on Jim’s jeans. “New Year’s Day.”

The rest of the conversation was lost amidst more kisses, sighs and moans, but in the end, Blair got his way.


	2. Grinch

“Sandburg!!!”

Blair’s head popped up, looking in the direction of Simon’s office.

“What’d you do now, Sandy?” Megan asked.

Standing slowly, Blair shook his head. “Dunno.”

“Maybe Simon’s just being a Grinch?” she suggested.

Slowly Blair walked towards the office door, but before he reached it, Simon pulled open the door.

“What the hell is this?” Simon said, thrusting his hand towards Blair’s face.

Blair grabbed Simon’s hand to steady it and focused the item he was holding. 

A green Grinch mug. 

Blair spun his head in Megan’s direction but the Aussie was gone. Looking back at Simon, Blair offered a shaky smile.

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” Blair sang softly.

Simon sighed deeply, pulled his hand back and rolled his eyes before returning to his office.

Blair was sure he heard Simon whistling the “Grinch” song as he made his way back to his own desk, plotting his revenge on Megan.


	3. Joy

“You can’t keep her,” Jim said, gesturing to the year old Siberian Husky sitting gracefully beside Blair.

“I know,” Blair said softly. “We’re just gonna foster her until she can find her forever home. Plus, I felt bad. She was the only dog in the shelter. Nobody, not even a dog should be alone at Christmas.”

“Uh huh,” Jim said, unconvinced.

“Her name’s Joy,” Blair said, walking over to where Jim was sitting on the couch. Joy followed.

Joy sat at Jim’s feet, her light blue eyes studying him. 

Blair handed Jim the leash and walked away, but Joy kept her eyes pinned on Jim as if she somehow knew who the alpha of the house was, and was awaiting his command.

“Joy.”

She cocked her head to the side, ready.

Jim leaned forward, patted her head and rubbed her ears. He unclipped the leash and set it beside him on the couch, then leaned back to see what she would do.

Joy continued to watch Jim even though Blair moved about the kitchen, making noise. She would cock an ear in his direction but she never stopped looking at Jim. 

“What?” Jim asked her.

She stepped closer until she could rest her chin on his knee.

Jim put his hand on her head, rubbing her gently.

“Come ‘ere, Joy,” Blair called from the kitchen. “Dinner.”

She didn’t move. 

“Go ahead,” Jim said, moving his hand.

Gracefully Joy trotted to the kitchen, eating from food and water bowls Blair had filled. After she was done, Joy came back to Jim and lay on the floor beside his feet.

“Good girl, Joy,” Jim said.

Blair smiled from the kitchen, thinking that Joy had already found her forever home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adopt, don't shop! :)


	4. Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [Chapter 2, Grinch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8907643/chapters/20405608).

Discarded wrapping paper littered the floor in the middle of the circle of Major Crimes personnel. Simon had opened his Secret Santa gift, a package of coffee beans from Costa Rica. Blair, a cashmere scarf. Jim, a leather holster with an intricate design. Everyone had opened their gift except Megan. 

She sat expectantly, holding a box the size of a shoe box. She slowly pulled the edges of the thick cream colored paper back, taking special care not to rip the paper. 

“Rip it, Connor,” Simon grumbled.

The paper safely tucked away, Megan held a slender black box with the word ‘Icicles’ written in elegant script across the top.

“Wonder what it is?” Rhonda said excitedly.

“Says ‘Candy Cane’ on the side,” Blair offered.

“Nice detective work there, Chief,” Jim said good-naturedly, winking at his lover. 

“Maybe it’s something sweet,” Henry suggested.

Megan eased off the lid and blushed bright red.

Inside her discreet box, was a clear glass dildo with red stripes in the shape of a candy cane.

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Rafe said softly.

The room shook with laughter as Blair enjoyed his revenge.


	5. North Pole

“That for me,” Blair asked, greedily eyeing Jim’s erection.

“Only if you want it,” Jim said with a lascivious grin. He gripped his cock and waved it in Blair’s direction.

“It’s pointing north, I think,” Blair said, dropping the last of his clothes.

“It’s your North Pole, baby,” Jim teased.

Blair froze. “Really?”

“What?”

“I’m not sure which is worse. You calling me ‘baby’ or referring to your cock as the ‘North Pole’. And at Christmas, too!” Blair turned and headed for the stairs.

“Wha—really?” Jim shook his head in disbelief.

“Nah,” Blair said with a laugh, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Well, quit fucking **with** me and get over here and fuck **me**!”

“Now you’re speaking my language, Santa,” Blair said, kneeling on the bed.

Jim froze. “Really? Santa?”


	6. Top or Bottom?

As Christmas Eve seeped into Christmas Day, Jim found himself a little too intoxicated to drive home. Looking at his guide, lover and the key to all the happiness in his life, Jim knew that Blair was deep in his cups as well.

“Stay the night,” William Ellison suggested, reading his son like an old, familiar book. In the two years since their reconciliation, they had grown closer, and William could almost read Jim as well as Blair could.

Nodding, Jim agreed without hesitation. 

While Blair stayed downstairs to speak to William, Jim slowly climbed the stairs. He passed Sally and stopped to speak to her.

“Sorry you had to stay so late,” he said, looking down at her.

“No, Jim,” she reassured him. “It’s good to see you and your father so happy.

“Goodnight,” Jim said, starting back up the stairs.

“I left some pajamas in the bathroom for you,” she called over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Jim replied.

In his old room, the twin sized bed had been replaced by a queen size, and Sally had turned down both sides of the bed. Jim smiled as he undressed before stepping into the en-suite. True to her word, Sally had placed a folded pair of flannel pajamas in a dark navy plaid pattern. 

_One set,_ Jim laughed to himself.

Finishing with his ablutions, Jim slid on the pajama bottoms and exited the bathroom just as Blair was entering the bedroom.

“Brought you a water,” Blair said, offering Jim the bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Jim said with a smile. 

Blair kicked off his shoes and slipped into the bathroom. Jim sat on the end of the bed, sipping from his water bottle. 

He’d had a good time tonight with Blair and his father, and said a little prayer of thanks that his dad was still alive to share these special moments with. And then he rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, realizing that tomorrow they would be spending Christmas Day with Blair’s mother. 

_Oh well,_ Jim thought. _It’s only once a year._ Blair’s relationship with his mother had never fully recovered from her traitorous behavior with his dissertation. 

Jim looked up when he heard the bathroom door open. He broke into a grin and laughter bubbled up, filling the room.

“What?” Blair said, standing in front of Jim wearing just the pajama top, the ends barely covering his ass, his hard cock peeking from beneath the hem.

Jim continued laughing even as he grabbed Blair by the arm and pulled him onto the bed, Blair’s laughter mingling with his.

Down the hall, William Ellison pulled the covers up and laughed softly in the dark room. Life was good, very good.


	7. Soup, It's What's For Dinner

“I still don’t understand it,” Joel said, dishing up a bowl of Blair’s Mexican Tortilla soup.

“What’s to understand, big man?” Blair asked. “My mom and I spent three Christmases at a commune in Mexico, and every year they made this soup.”

“But it’s not like the tortilla soup we get at the diner,” Rafe commented.

“No, it’s not,” Blair said, shaking his head. “This is traditional style, not the bastardized version most American restaurants serve.”

“Tastes better, too,” Jim said, taking a stoneware crock from Blair.

Blair smiled as he watched Jim crush homemade tortilla chips into the bottom of the crock, add some shredded jalapeno Jack cheese and then pour a ladle full of soup on top. 

Blair stepped back as Simon approached with his empty bowl, the bottoms of his glasses were steamed up.

“Good soup, Simon?” Blair asked.

“Better than ostrich chili,” Simon said.

“I thought that chili was great,” Joel countered.

“Yeah, but this soup really hits the spot on a cold, rainy day,” Jim said, winking at Blair. 

What the rest of Major Crimes didn’t know was that this soup was considered an aphrodisiac. Well, maybe that was an obfuscation. But it did work on Sentinels. 

Blair rocked back on his heels and counted the hours until he could be alone with Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can post the recipe if anyone wants it. And no, I'm not sure it is a more 'traditional' version of tortilla soup; it's just the one my mother always made. :)


	8. Oh, Christmas Tree

Jim and Blair offered to work a double, covering Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, allowing officers with families to be together. It was a typically quiet time of year for Major Crimes, and at 7 a.m. Christmas morning, the seventh floor was still deserted. 

The overhead lights were off, and only a few desk lamps were lit, lending the room an intimate feel. A small pre-lit Christmas tree sat on a stool in the corner, the white lights twinkling softly. 

Jim’s eyes fell on Blair. The young man had wedged himself into an armchair, his head buried in a new novel. Jim was sure Blair would be complaining about a sore back later and begging for a backrub. Not that that was such a hardship, Jim mused to himself. This thing between them was still fresh and crisp, even after five years. Jim loved Blair’s spontaneity and enthusiasm, while Blair loved Jim’s steadfastness and tenderness. They were a perfect match.

Jim looked up as he heard the elevator doors open. A patrol officer Jim knew stepped off, but Jim could hear a second person, their tread lighter and more hesitant. 

Jim and Blair both rose as Boggs entered Major Crimes, a little raven haired girl holding his hand.

“Boggs,” Jim said, holding out his hand.

“Hey guys,” the patrolman said, shaking Jim and then Blair’s hands.. “This is my daughter, Miranda.”

Blair knelt down in front of the little girl. “Hello Miranda.”

She smiled shyly at him and held out a paper plate covered in red plastic wrap.

“She and her mom—my wife, spent last night making cookies while I was on patrol,” Boggs explained.

“For us?” Blair asked, taking the plate.

Miranda nodded.

“What do you say?” Biggs prompted her.

“Than’ you,” she said softly.

“Merry Christmas,” Boggs reminded.

“Mewwy Chris’mas,” she said, smiling a toothy grin at them.

“Thank you, Miranda,” Blair said.

“Thanks, guys,” Boggs said, turning. “Come on, Mir, let’s go home and see what Santa brought you.”

Jim and Blair watched the young patrolman and his daughter make their way to the elevator, waving at the cute little girl as the doors closed. Turning his attention to the plate, Jim pulled back the plastic wrap to reveal sugar cookies in the shape of Christmas trees. It was easy to tell that Miranda had wielded the cookie cutter and sprinkles, and that made the cookies taste better than any others they had eaten all season.


End file.
